Et je chante pour toi
by CrimsonPetrichor
Summary: LBD-verse. Ten music-inspired moments from the lives of William Darcy and the Bennet sisters.


**A/N:** This went up as a multi-chaptered fic on AO3, but I figured I'd post it here, too, just to cover my bases. The deal was that I put iTunes on shuffle and used each of the first ten songs that came up to write a short piece describing a moment (or sometimes two) in the lives of the characters. (If you want to see moment-specific notes, you can hop over to AO3, where I ramble with much greater frequency.) As it is, I hope you enjoy this little (okay, not-so-little) fic.

**Disclaimer:** Pride and Prejudice isn't mine, and neither is the LBD. Any lines that you recognize belong to the showrunners, and the lyrics featured between moments belong to their respective artists. Oh! Also, the title comes from the song "L'amoureuse", by Carla Bruni.

* * *

_James Horner - "Saving New York" (from The Amazing Spider-Man OST)_

* * *

Once upon a time, he really liked comic books.

He'd always fit the profile of an archetypal nerd, after all: socially awkward, detail-oriented, and bespectacled from a very young age. The young William Darcy never really had many friends: his dearest childhood companions were the characters from the stories he loved so much. They never teased him for being awkward or mocked his strange way of speaking. They were always just there, ready to take him along on their latest adventures.

As soon as he'd been introduced to superhero comics, he was hooked. They had everything- humor, action, adventure- along with the added assurance that good always won out over evil. William became a dedicated fan of Spider-Man and Superman. George had once tried to get him into Batman comics, but they were a bit brutal for William's sensibilities. And besides, no matter how much he wished he was suave and charming, he never could quite relate to Bruce Wayne. Peter Parker and Clark Kent, on the other hand, were exactly the friends that a child like William needed, and for a very long time, he cherished them as such.

But there was growing-up to be done and colleges to get into, and after that a company to run and a little sister to raise, and his love of comics fell by the wayside. It was eventually just tucked away in his mind, only called upon when he watched the mainstream superhero blockbusters that he'd never own up to liking in front of his friends.

He mentions it once to Lizzie in passing, his only real defense when she accuses him of being prejudiced against pop culture. It isn't something they dwell on, and he soon forgets that he said anything to her on the subject. But Lizzie? Lizzie forgets nothing, and he soon learns just how true that is.

He is on his way to an early meeting and manages to wake her up as he gets out of bed. Her day doesn't start for another two hours, so she grumbles a bit, but soon she's wide awake and chatting with him as he gets ready.

William is so tired this morning that he hasn't even bothered with contacts, so it's no surprise when Lizzie beckons him over to the bed to fix his tie. (It would be a perfect full Windsor, actually, if it wasn't _backwards_.) She doesn't tease him about the tie, just laughs and shakes her head as she re-ties it expertly, smoothing it against his chest once she's done. William thanks her and kisses her on the forehead before making for the door, and that's when she says it.

He freezes in the doorway as he processes Lizzie's words, then turns to face his girlfriend, who is looking at him a little too innocently from her perch on the bed. He isn't entirely sure what's going on, but it's definitely not nothing."I- I apologize; I don't believe I heard you correctly. What was that?"

"I said," Lizzie pauses and deliberately tosses her red hair with a smirk, "go get 'em, tiger."

It's then abruptly decided that Pemberley's CEO has very pressing matters to attend to at home. The morning's meeting will just have to wait.

* * *

_Lulu & the Lampshades - Cups_

_"I sure would like some sweet company/and I'm leaving tomorrow, what do you say?"_

* * *

It starts with one intern and her Starbucks cup.

When Emma Woodhouse finishes all of her morning's work while her boss is stuck in a meeting, she finds herself extremely bored. Her supervisor won't be out for another forty minutes, and everyone else who can possibly give her an assignment is stuck in the meeting, too. Sometimes, Emma wonders how on earth Pemberley Digital could possibly run as a company. Democratic leadership is great, but putting almost an entire department in a meeting at the same time just seems ineffective. (Then again, the napping pods, laundry service, and gourmet dining services probably seem ineffective, too, so maybe you're just not supposed to apply logic to Pemberley.)

Emma's best friend George says that a bored Emma is a dangerous Emma, but this time, she proves him wrong. She's finished her coffee and is drumming on the break room table, trying to think of a way to pass the time when she remembers a movie she saw with Harriet in the fall. A minute later, she has a "Cups" tutorial video open on her phone, and is working very intently at mastering the song.

It's going pretty well, actually, until someone opens the door just as she picks up the cup. Startled by the noise, Emma jumps and the cup goes flying out of her hand, landing in front of a pair of really nice boots. Emma is mortified, but the owner of said boots just laughs. She bends to pick up the cup, walking over to where Emma sits.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she says with a wince, before holding out the cup. "I think this is yours."

The girl has auburn hair and a badge around her neck that indicates that she's not a full employee of the company. Emma wonders if she's another intern, but doesn't remember seeing her around the building. "Oh, don't worry about it," Emma says. "I was just used to the quiet, you know? I swear I thought no one would come in here; the entire department's at that big meeting."

"Oh, not me," the girl says. "I'm a grad student shadowing the company. My name's Lizzie."

Emma smiles at Lizzie. "I'm Emma. I'm an intern in the production department."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Emma. Nice to meet anyone, actually. The people here are all really nice, but they seem so busy-" Lizzie breaks off as her gaze falls on the paused tutorial video. "Wait, are you trying to learn that cup song?"

When Emma answers in the affirmative, Lizzie admits that she's always wanted to learn it, too. Emma excitedly invites her to join in, and after they dig through the break room cabinet, for the Solo cups that Emma just knows are in there, they try to learn the song together. Their first tries just don't work out, because they can't stop laughing at how bad they are, but eventually they start to get it right. Not long after, they're joined by another intern, and a few minutes later, two more show up. In the fifty minutes that it takes for the meeting to finally end, the five have perfected the song from start to finish, and Lizzie has made friends in San Francisco who aren't Dr. Gardiner or the younger sister of the man Lizzie publicly rejected.

The cup song becomes a "thing" for Pemberley interns. They even post a cover on YouTube, and Emma would have been happy to leave it at that, but the video goes up on her channel and for some reason, it gets tens of thousands of views. Suddenly she's got an extra two-thousand subscribers and she has no idea where they came from. Their cover isn't even very good- Cate Morland messes up like, four times. (Lizzie even recommends, while Emma's posting it, that she should disable comments in case some random denizen of YouTube decides to be a particularly harsh judge of talent.) Emma tries to look into what's going on, but she gets distracted by work and eventually forgets about it.

(In two months, when her internship draws to a close, Emma will wonder whatever happened to Lizzie Bennet and google her. She will not only get her answer, but she will subsequently marathon all of the vlogs in one night, literally jumping up and cheering over Darcy and Lizzie's first kiss.

The next morning, Lizzie will receive a text message that reads, _"My name is Emma Woodhouse and Lizzie Bennet is so busted."_)

* * *

_Various Artists - "Salaam-E-Ishq" (from the Bollywood movie, Salaam-E-Ishq)_

* * *

When Lizzie walks into the house after dinner with Charlotte, the first thing she notes is that it's too dark. If nothing else, the family room lights should be on, because 10:30 on any given Friday night usually finds Mrs. Bennet on the couch, crocheting with alarming speed as a _Bewitched_ rerun plays in the background. Should the chance arise, she also might lecture whichever daughter lacks a date for the evening on the importance of marriage.

Tonight is different, though. Lizzie is about to assume that her mother has turned in early when suddenly, the music of what sounds like bagpipes shatters the silence. Startled, Lizzie drops her purse and lets out a not-so-ladylike curse word.

As she regains her senses and follows the noise to the family room, Lizzie notes that there's now singing accompanying the music that she heard earlier, but she can't understand it. She figures out why a moment later. Stepping into the family room, Lizzie sees her mother curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, intently watching the screen in front of her.

Mrs. Bennet pauses the DVD as soon as Lizzie appears. "Home so soon?" she asks.

"Mom, it's almost eleven," Lizzie says, arching an eyebrow at her mother.

"What?" The older woman looks at her wristwatch and sighs. "Oh, my. So it is. Oh, well! Let's see if I can at least make it to the end of this movie."

Lizzie leans against the wall and raises her eyebrows at the image on screen, paused in the middle what looks to be a giant musical number. "You know this movie's not in English, right?"

Mrs. Bennet only glances at Lizzie for a moment before saying, "Well, Miss Elizabeth, I may not be as well-versed as you are on the issues of our world, but I do believe that's the norm for Bollywood movies."

(There are days where Lizzie is reminded that she didn't get all of her snark from her dad.)

Letting out a laugh, Lizzie plunks down on the couch next to her mother. "Good point. But seriously, Mom? More Bollywood? Why do you even watch these? Between the total lack of realism and the bad subtitles, I can never tell what's going on."

Mrs. Bennet shrugs. "Bollywood movies are the only ones that get it right anymore. They're dependable; I like that. I know that if I pick one of these up from the store, there'll be music and drama and, most importantly, it will always end with a weddin'. It's nice to have somethin' to rely on."

Her daughter just looks at her skeptically.

"I like these movies for the same reason that you like readin' the same books over and over," Mrs. Bennet says with a sigh. "They're comfortable. And besides, I think I'm startin' to pick up Hindi."

Lizzie mulls over that for a second, then nods approvingly. "Okay," she says, before pulling her mom's blanket over her legs, too. "So, what'd I miss?"

Looking at her middle daughter in surprise, Mrs. Bennet happily launches into an explanation of about nine different intertwining plots, and Lizzie's not sure she'll keep everything straight, but she sticks around anyway. At first, she can't do anything but laugh at how ridiculous some parts of the movie are. An hour in, though, she's completely engrossed, and by the end, there are tears in her eyes.

When the credits roll, she fights back a yawn and stands up to go to bed. She's in the doorway when her mom calls her name. Lizzie turns around and answers with a, "Hmm?"

Mrs. Bennet busies herself with folding the blanket as she speaks. "I know you think I'm a bit silly with all my marriage talk and you probably didn't want to see it in a movie, too. Thank you for watchin' this with me, dear."

Lizzie is suddenly reminded of every video where she called her mother insane or embarrassing or wedding-obsessed, and she quickly crosses the room to give her mom a big hug. "I had fun, Mom. Next time, we'll get Lydia to watch with us, too," she says quickly, because one of these days, she'll have to explain the videos to her mother and she has no clue how she'll do it.

Mrs. Bennet is none the wiser, of course. She just hugs Lizzie back and shoos her off to bed, because Darcy flies in tomorrow for Lizzie's graduation and "I will not have you lookin' like the living dead in front of that man."

* * *

_Etta James - "At Last"_

_"And here we are in heaven/for you are mine at last."_

* * *

Of all the things that William remembered about his parents, one of the most prominent was the fact that his father was not the world's best singer.

He recalled being much younger, sitting at the kitchen table as his parents made breakfast on the weekends. It had always struck him as odd, the way that his parents could move around each other in the kitchen, undeniably close but never in each other's way. He'd decided, in all his five-year-old wisdom, that they must practice the routine when he wasn't around. It was the same every weekend, timed to perfection. The first batch of pancakes made it onto their plates as the coffee finished brewing. Two minutes later, the kettle would begin whistling, followed by the toast popping out of the shiny chrome toaster and the oven timer signaling that the bacon was done. Occasionally, his mother would ask him if he wanted to help, and he'd be assigned the Very Important Task of stirring the batter or sprinkling blueberries onto pancakes. William was always pleased to find out that the addition of his talents didn't throw off the timing at all- like he fit perfectly into the routine so elegantly crafted by his parents. It gave him a sense of belonging, and that was comforting.

What still stuck out in William's memory, though, were his parents' antics while making breakfast. The Darcys had both been incredibly warm people, but they'd had to learn to be that way. His mother had grown up painfully shy and his father was a very reserved person. Their saving graces were an incredible amount of charm and a talent for being well-spoken, respectively. (William often wished that he'd inherited both sets of qualities instead of just the first so he wouldn't come off so damn _awkward_ all the time, but that just hadn't been the case.) There was just something about them all being together- or maybe it was that it was the weekend, or maybe it was the music that was invariably playing from the gramophone in the corner- that made them both so wonderfully animated.

His father did spot-on impressions of the stuffy businessmen who sometimes came to dinner. For her part, his mother kept up a running commentary on his husband's performances, occasionally referring to the peanut gallery- William and, later on, Gigi- to confirm her assessments. Anne did have a bit of an advantage, though, as the threat of tickle wars loomed over the children's heads if they didn't agree with her ratings. (Sometimes young William disagreed anyway, shouting, "A million!" when Anne asked him how many stars his father's acting skills merited, then giggling at his mother's mock-offended expression.)

Though the older William could be incredibly grave and businesslike when he wanted to be, he was completely ready to be ridiculous for the entertainment of his family. This was no more evident than when he (very poorly) serenaded his wife to the sounds of Etta James. It was another one of those routines that you could set your watch by- "At Last" was William, Sr.'s song of choice and the fifth track on the record. As the fourth track came to an end, he would flip the last pancake off the griddle, turn off the stove, and wait patiently for his cue.

Almost every weekend for their entire married life, he performed the song from start to finish, belting the last line with enthusiasm that was undiminished by his inability to actually sing. It had made William laugh hysterically when he was younger, but he was ashamed to admit that as he reached his teens, it just struck him as sort of stupid. What was the point, he wondered, in making a total fool of yourself for another person? What did that prove?

But a decade later, he found himself in the wardrobe department at Pemberley, a fake afro in his hands and his heart on his sleeve, and suddenly he understood.

This- making a total fool of yourself just to see another person's smile- this was how Darcys said, "I love you."

And he would keep on saying it until Lizzie was ready to hear him.

* * *

_Pitch Perfect Cast - "Starships" (Nicki Minaj cover)_

_"Get on the the floor, floor like it's your last chance/if you want more, more then here I am."_

* * *

The weekend of Labor Day sees the Bennet house finally get loud again. It's the Bennets' thirtieth anniversary: Jane and Bing fly in from New York, Lizzie comes home with Darcy in tow, and Mrs. Bennet is all in a dither because she's decided to throw a party, and that always brings on a good panic.

Somehow, though, on Saturday morning, Lydia wakes up to an empty house. She wonders vaguely where everyone is, but there are more important things on her plate right now. The living room has been cleared out for the party- nearly all the furniture has been pushed aside or migrated to the basement. Even the fancy carpet that sits in the middle of the room has been rolled up, presumably because Mom is going to go all _Downton Abbey_on it and beat the dust out like it's 1910. The hardwood floors are totally bare. For those of you playing along at home, this of course means only one thing: sock slides.

About two minutes later and a shared wall away, a burst of loud music distracts William Darcy from the most mind-numbing financial reports ever. He's confused for a second before he remembers that when he dropped by this morning, he saw everyone but Lydia leave the house at some point. It would appear that the youngest Bennet sister has finally woken up.

He decides that he'll go see what's going on, partly out of curiosity and partly because he really just can't read another word about quarterly earnings right now. As he makes his way to the living room, he hears Lydia before he sees her. She's rapping along to the song that just started playing- the first lyric that he catches is 'Bad bitches like me is hard to come by'. It's not at quite his kind of music, but judging by the fact that she's singing (fairly well, actually) at the top of her lungs, Lydia seems to be enjoying it.

When the room comes into view, he finally understands what's going on: Lydia is doing sock slides. William can't help but smile a little at that. Her first of many visits to San Francisco included complaints about how bad Lizzie's carpeted apartment was for sock-sliding, followed soon by Lydia's declaration that Darcy's place was a million times better in that department and Lizzie should just move in there as soon as possible. (It doesn't happen right then, obviously, but he still appreciates that he didn't have to be the first one to bring it up. Lydia's good about these things; it's impossible to ignore the elephant in any room that she occupies.)

By this point, he feels a little creepy just lurking in the corner, so William steps into full view in the living room's entry way, waiting for Lydia to notice him. (Situations like this usually merit a polite cough to make oneself known, but William decides that she's not exactly likely to hear him over the thumping music.)

"_We're higher than a mother_- Darceface?"

Lydia breaks off in the middle of singing when she sees him. She notices him mid-slide, though, so her momentum carries her another two feet past him before she comes to a halt and walks back to where he's standing.

He's so used to Lydia's nicknames by now that he doesn't even flinch, greeting her with a small smile and a "Good morning, Lydia."

Lydia snorts, tugging her hair up into a ponytail. "Morning, Darcinator. Hey, where'd everyone go?"

"Your parents were gone before I arrived, but I believe Bing and Jane are meeting with friends while Lizzie and Charlotte have a meeting with a potential investor for their joint project."

"Isn't Pemberley part of that project, too? Why aren't you there?"

"Well, I had quite a bit of paperwork to complete, and there were some calls-"

But Lydia cuts him off. "You offered to come and Lizzie put you in your place, didn't she?" she asks amusedly.

Darcy's only reply is a small nod and a sheepish shrug. Lydia tries and fails to muffle her laughter.

There are a few moments of not-uncomfortable silence before William speaks up. "You know, your technique could use a little bit of polishing," he says, without preamble.

"What technique?"

"Sock-sliding," he says simply, like it's normal to be giving your girlfriend's younger sister advice on these things.

Lydia looks at him skeptically. "Okay, first of all, Darcepants, what could you possibly know about sock-sliding?"

He lets out a chuckle. "Lydia, I am what you might call a sock-sliding veteran. I have spent a fair amount of time in houses with marble-floored corridors and ballrooms. My aunt Catherine may not have been the most fun relative to have, but her house had entire wings that Gigi and I used to race each other in."

"Well, let's see it then," Lydia says.

"I'm sorry?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Your sock-sliding technique. I can't be taking advice from amateurs, you know. You're the one who brought it up, and now I'm going to need a demonstration for proof."

William is suddenly reminded of his interview with Lizzie all those months ago, where she convinced him to do costume theater as Gigi. In that moment, it's impossible to not see the resemblance between the sisters.

Lydia grasps William's hesitance, but instead of letting it go, she teases him. "It's okay; I understand. You've probably lost your touch, and you're a little older now anyway. We wouldn't want you breaking your hip or anything."

For some reason, Darcy isn't ready to just let this slide. Maybe he feels the need to prove that he can be fun, too. Maybe he just hasn't sock-slid in a while and misses it more than he realizes. Whatever it is, a moment later, he finds himself slipping off his John Lobbs and saying, "Alright, then. What would you like me to do?"

When Lizzie gets home a half hour later, her sister and boyfriend have their backs to her and Lydia is saying, "Okay, I think I've got it now. I'll race you again and you're totes going down this time."

"Let's not get overconfident, Lydia. I do have a slight advantage here."

"It doesn't matter that you're the height of a tree. I'm more aerodynamic than a freaking flying squirrel. Bring it on, Newsie Hat."

Lizzie's jaw drops as she processes what's going on, and she very quietly closes the door behind her so they don't notice that she's home. (Not that she needs to- Lydia is playing *NSYNC so loudly that they probably wouldn't hear a foghorn over the music.) When she turns back to face the living room, Darcy and Lydia are standing at what appears to be the starting point of their race and Lydia is doing the countdown.

As soon as she yells, "Go!" Lydia is off like a bullet, but Darcy hangs back for a split second. He's counting on the fact that Lydia won't notice, and she doesn't, but Lizzie sees it and the smile on her face gets even wider.

The result of Darcy's late start is a victory for Lydia, who celebrates it enthusiastically. In true Lydia style, she holds up a hand for him to hi-five, accompanied by a, "Whaaaaaat?" and William can't help but reciprocate.

At this point, Lydia finally sees Lizzie standing by the door. "Hi, Lizzie!" she says, taking a running start and sliding all the way to where her sister is standing. "Fun fact: your mancake is a half-decent sock-slider. I think you should keep him around."

Lizzie grins and puts an arm around Lydia as a red-faced William makes his way over to the sisters. "Don't worry. I plan to."

* * *

_Frank & Nancy Sinatra - Somethin' Stupid_

_"And then I go and spoil it all/by saying something stupid like 'I love you.'"_

* * *

William Darcy rehearses his conversations with Lizzie Bennet.

No, seriously.

He does.

Frankly, Darcy already has trouble expressing himself. Toss Lizzie Bennet into the mix and he has trouble remembering what his name is, let alone that he's mature and intelligent and, you know, actually capable of speech.

So he works out in his head the way that their conversations are going to go before they actually have them. It's not necessary the first few times that they meet, of course, but once she and Jane end up staying at Netherfield, he and Lizzie talk more than he ever thought they would, and he prepares accordingly. (Okay, so by 'talk' he means 'argue.' The point stands.)

This whole rehearsal technique actually works pretty well for him, so when he goes to see Lizzie on the night of the Collins & Collins Halloween party, that's what he does. He runs the conversation over and over again- in his head, under his breath, out loud when he's alone.

In his mind, he approaches her office and engages in casual conversation for a short while (this should have been the first red flag, because there's very little that William is capable of doing casually) before mentioning his feelings for her and asking her out. He lets himself believe that it will go off without a hitch.

He is an idiot.

In the real world, after insisting that he needs to speak to Lizzie immediately, he proceeds to ignore the things that she's saying to him as he enters the room. As if this weren't enough, he skips the small talk completely (this might not have been the worst choice, actually, considering how bad he is at small talk) and launches straight into his confession.

You would think that the camera staring him in the face might have been an effective deterrent. It was not.

You would think that the loathing and horror on Lizzie's face might have been an effective deterrent. Maybe it would have been, had William bothered to look at her face while he was saying all of this.

During this entire train wreck of a confession, Darcy tells himself that the only thing that went wrong was when he admitted that he was in love with her. He was supposed to just say that he was attracted to her, or that he admired her, or just something, anything less soul-baring than what he actually said. But just as he was about to say something less humiliating than what he did say, part of him realized that he was sitting next to _Lizzie Bennet_. And maybe this part of him had temporarily gained psychic powers, because it was the only part of him that considered the possibility that this wouldn't go the way he planned. Something in his brain screamed that this could very well be his last chance. The thought made him panic, and in his panic he blurted the one thing he hadn't planned on saying that evening.

"Lizzie Bennet, I'm in love with you."

And well, it was all downhill from there, wasn't it?

When he goes to see Lizzie after he gets her message, he doesn't rehearse anything. Granted, he runs about a million different situations in his head, but he's learned his lesson. And while it terrifies him to no end, he's going in there without the slightest idea of what will happen.

GiGi tells him that he's being brave by doing this, but that's not really true. He's terrified. It's just that curiosity has beaten out fear by a very slim margin.

So he does it. He drives to Lizzie's house and spends a good ten minutes in the car trying to find the courage to go to her front door. The mantra that he's repeating in his head over and over again is that _things are different now, things are different now, please let things be different now_.

When Charlotte answers the door, she looks relieved. Before she tells him where Lizzie is, she makes some comment about how it took him long enough. He doesn't quite hear her because his heart is pounding at a ludicrous pace and his brain is everywhere all at once, but she's not telling him to leave her best friend alone and there's comfort in that.

He has to take another moment outside the doorway of the den before entering. The defiant mantra that was going through his head has since turned into a plea to the Powers That Be, because they've thrown him enough curveballs that he's hesitant. But he's earned this. He's devoted his life to coping with whatever gets thrown his way and making sure that the people who depend on him never have to worry, but Lizzie makes him feel like he has a shot at something more- he just has to take it.

And so he steps into the room, and because Lizzie is Lizzie, she immediately invalidates every single one of the million situations that he imagined on his flight here.

(He's not even sure what "I thought you were Chinese" is supposed to mean, but he takes it into stride and pushes on, because he doesn't know what'll happen tomorrow or in an hour or in ten minutes, but he knows that he has to do this right because it's the beginning of everything.)

They stumble through their conversation like awkward teenagers. It's only when he asks if she wants to be friends and Lizzie falters that he realizes she's as scared as he is. The way that she was talking about second chances just before he came in, the way that her easy eloquence seems to have failed her- he knows that turmoil intimately, and the simple fact is that he can't bear the idea that Lizzie has to go through it, too.

So he speaks up. Because the universe owes him one, because they've earned their right to be happy, because there's hope now that she cares about him, too, and he'll be damned if he's going to let that go.

"Lizzie, I still feel the same way I felt back in the fall."

And things go just a little bit better this time around, don't they?

* * *

_Julie Fowlis - "Touch the Sky" (from Disney's Brave)_

_"I will hear their every story/take hold of my own dream."_

* * *

Lydia nearly falls out of bed when her phone rings.

It's almost midnight and the house is totally silent: then, out of nowhere, her phone goes off. She's not asleep- just doing some reading for class tomorrow- but it scares the crap out of her. Once she's no longer precariously perched on the edge of the bed, she grabs her phone and checks the caller ID before answering.

"Lizzie? What's wrong?"

Her answer comes in the 'I'm-totally-freaked-out-about-something-but-I'll- (poorly)-pretend-to-be-nonchalant' voice that can only belong to Lizzie Bennet. "What? No, no, nothing's wrong. Why would you think that? Can't I just call my baby sister to chat without anything being wrong?"

"It's 11:55, you have an important meeting tomorrow, and you never say 'chat.' Also, you are totes the worst liar in the world," Lydia says, before her tone softens. "So what's up? Is everything okay?"

Lizzie hesitates.

Lydia takes this to mean that everything is _not_ okay. "Is it Darcy? Because if you need me to beat him up for you, if I leave now, I can be down there by tomorrow morning." She congratulates herself when she hears a laugh from Lizzie's end.

"William and I are fine, Lydia, but I'll be sure to pass on the threat," says her sister.

After a moment or two of silence, Lydia asks, "Is it the meeting?"

That's really all it takes, because from the other end, Lydia hears a _whoosh_, like Lizzie just let out a breath she'd been holding, and the words come spilling out. "I can't do this, Lydia. I don't know why I ever thought I _could_ do this. I'm not qualified to be dealing with these people, let alone using their money to run a business. This is just too much. The last two didn't think I was worth the risk, and I was just doing research on the woman who I'm meeting with tomorrow, and she's twice as qualified as the others. There's no way I'm impressing her, Lydia. This is it. I'm going to fail and lose everything and have to move back home."

If Lizzie was expecting a pep talk from Lydia, she's set herself up for disappointment, because all that Lydia says in reply is, "Okay."

Lizzie sputters incomprehensibly for a few seconds before she repeats, "Okay?! I'm going to fail miserably at this venture that I've set out to dedicate my life to, and all you can say is _okay_? Why did I even call you?"

"Because it's 3 AM in New York, Charlotte's in Winnipeg, and you're a strong, independent woman who don't need no pep talks from her CEO mancake."

"Come on, Lydia!"

Lydia sighs, choosing not to comment on the fact that Lizzie sounds just like their mom when she's on the verge of a good panic. "So you think you're gonna fail. Fine. If you fail, you pick yourself back up and you try again. Lizzie, I'm pretty sure that Big Bird gave you this advice twenty years ago."

"Can you try to be serious, just this once?"

"I am being serious, Lizzie. I know you, and that's what you'll do. You'll keep coming back for more, because you're an annoyingly stubborn person who doesn't know when to quit. And that's a good thing this time."

The line goes quiet. When Lizzie speaks, the irritation has left her voice. Now she just sounds scared. "But how do I do it? How can I convince them that I can do it when I don't even know if I can?"

"Lizzie, remember all those plays that you used to make us act out when we were little?"

The change of subject seems to throw Lizzie off. "Um, yes?"

"What about that time that you convinced your entire second grade class that there was a leprechaun with a pot of gold and a tragic life story hiding in the classroom?"

"Vaguely."

"Or what about those three years that you were a camp counselor where everyone wanted to be in your group because you used to make up the most amazing ghost stories? Or when you read that short story to your tenth grade English class and made the teacher cry? Oh, and how about that time where you spent a year making video blogs that were so interesting that two hundred thousand strangers decided to subscribe to you?"

Lizzie lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, I think I remember that."

"The whole point of your production company is to tell stories, right? You've been telling stories since you could talk. Hell, even before you could talk, you were probably telling stories through interpretive dance or something. There are a lot of things you can't do- video games, singing, baking all come to mind," Lydia says with a laugh. "But if there's one thing that you're amazing at, it's telling people stories. And if you still don't know that, you dork, well, it doesn't matter. Because I know it and Jane knows it, and Dad and Charlotte and Darcy and Gigi all know it, too. You're gonna be great."

There's a sniffle from the other end of the line.

"Oh my God, Lizzie, are you seriously crying right now?"

Another sniffle, followed by a watery chuckle. "Shut up."

"You are so weird," Lydia says, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, well, so are you," Lizzie shoots back. "After all, there was a reason I chose to call you instead of someone else."

"Um, yeah, and that reason is because I'm totes awesome at pep talks. That was like, _Friday Night Lights_ material."

"Sure it was," says Lizzie. "Thanks, Coach Taylor. You're the best."

Lydia snorts. "Anytime, Riggins."

As Lizzie incredulously demands to know how she's Tim Riggins in this situation, Lydia just laughs before cutting her off. "Okay, I think it's time for you to go to bed before you do something regrettable like say that Taylor Kitsch isn't hot. Love you, sis. Good luck tomorrow."

"Love you, too, Lydia."

* * *

_Carrie Underwood - "Ever Ever After" (from Disney's Enchanted)_

_"Storybook endings, fairytales coming true/deep down inside we want to believe they still do."_

* * *

She's never mentioned it to her family (Lizzie and Lydia would just tease her, and Mom would probably use it as a segue into a marriage lecture), but Jane Bennet has been mistaken for a Disney princess more than once.

It used to just be at the beach- there was a summer where she favored a purple two-piece and a green sarong, and a fair amount of little kids thought she was Ariel. She did the best that she could to maintain the illusion, telling them stories about Flounder and Sebastian and Prince Eric. She was even approached by one or two apologetic parents whose kids had begged for photos. Because Jane wasn't the sort of person who could say no to anyone, much less Disney-loving kids, she always said yes.

It hasn't happened in a while, though, which is why Jane is surprised when a little girl points at her and exclaims, "Mommy, it's Giselle!"

She's waiting to meet Bing for lunch by a fountain in Central Park. For a second, Jane just thinks that the girl has mistaken her for another person, but then she remembers that it's the name of the redheaded princess from _Enchanted_...which takes place in New York and includes a musical number in Central Park. It makes sense now, and Jane quickly smooths out her turquoise maxi-dress as the little girl runs over to where she's sitting.

Jane puts on her sunniest princess voice. "Well, hello there," she says, smiling at the girl.

"Hi, Princess Giselle!" says the little girl excitedly. "You _are_ Giselle, aren't you?"

"Of course, silly," says Jane, as the little girl's mother catches up to her. The woman looks tired, but a smile spreads across her face as she looks down at her daughter. "It's very nice to meet you both."

The little girl looks up at her mother. She's practically bouncing. "See, Mommy? I told you it was okay that we're not going to Disney. Princess Giselle lives in New York! Do you remember her movie? It had Chip the Chipmunk and the prince in the funny clothes and the girl with curly hair like mine."

The girl's mother nods at her before looking over at Jane bemusedly. "Nice to meet you, Princess Giselle. I'm Audrey and this is _my_ little princess, Lizzy."

Jane's eyes widen and she clasps her hands together in her best Amy Adams impression. "Your name is Lizzy? That's my sister's name!"

Of course, as far as Jane can remember, Giselle doesn't have a sister in the movie. Apparently, Lizzy remembers this, too, because she asks, "You have a sister? They never had that in the movie."

"Well, she moved away from home," Jane says, matter-of-factly. "She went to go live with her prince. His name is William."

"Oh, I understand," Lizzy says, nodding. "Is that why you had all of those pets with you at the beginning? Because you missed your sister?"

Jane smiles warmly at the little girl. "Exactly."

Lizzy beams back at her before launching into a series of questions about how the characters from the movie are doing, and Jane would never be able to answer them, except that Audrey keeps mouthing helpful hints from behind her daughter, and together they put together some pretty believable answers.

After a few minutes, Lizzy asks a question that neither of them have an answer to, so Audrey looks down at her watch and saves the day. "Lizzy, sweetheart, maybe we should let Giselle go. I'm sure she's very busy, and besides, Daddy's coming to meet us soon."

"I guess so," Lizzy says, her face falling a little. "Mommy, can I have a picture with her?"

Audrey looks at Jane, who nods. "As long as it's alright with your mom, it's okay with me."

As soon as she gets a nod of approval from her mother, Lizzy scrambles to sit next to Jane. Both girls smile brightly for the camera, and as soon as the picture's been taken, Lizzy's attention is grabbed by a man standing a few feet away. "Daddy!" she shouts.

Her mom winces at the volume and looks down at her daughter. "Okay, kiddo. Say thank you to Princess Giselle and then go say hi to your dad. I'll be there in a sec."

Lizzy throws her arms around Jane in a tight hug, saying "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" before making a beeline to where her father stands.

Jane calls out a "You're welcome!" but Lizzy is long gone.

Hesitating for a moment, Audrey turns to Jane and earnestly says thank you. "We've kind of had a rough year," she explains. "And I think you made her week."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," Jane says with a smile. "She's adorable. It was nice to meet you both."

Audrey responds in kind before leaving with a small wave. Jane watches the family walk away and can't help but laugh. Jane Bennet: Disney princess. She kind of likes the sound of it.

The smile doesn't leave her face for the rest of the day.

* * *

_Jack Johnson - "Banana Pancakes"_

_"When the whole world fits inside of your arms/don't really need to pay attention to the alarm."_

* * *

"...and so I found him the next day at the park and I socked him in the jaw."

Lizzie feels rather than hears William laugh as her head rests against his chest. "Should I be alarmed that so many of these stories end in fisticuffs?" he asks.

"Oh, no," Lizzie says mock-seriously. "There were no fisticuffs. I hit him once and he went down."

"I see. So you just spent your youth knocking people unconscious, then?"

"Mm-hmm. Mom wanted me to become the trophy wife of a wealthy man; I wanted to become a vigilante who took out the boys who didn't treat my sisters right." There's a pause, and then: "Although I guess now I've done both, huh?"

"You are not my trophy wife," William says, before adding with a smirk. "I much prefer to say- what's that term that GiGi favors? Oh, yes. _Arm candy_."

She snorts. "Oh, _that's_ comforting."

William's only response is to pull her closer and press a kiss to her temple.

Lizzie sighs contentedly. "You know, we should probably leave this bed at some point today."

"I must admit that I'm rather disinclined to do so."

"As am I," Lizzie says, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on William's chest. Her eyes fall on the clock on the bedside table. "Don't you think it's strange that we haven't been-"

But that's as far as Lizzie gets, because then their bedroom door opens and a little girl with her mother's hair and her father's eyes peeks out from behind it. Once she sees that her parents are awake, she toddles over to them, dragging a plush lobster behind her. With a little help from Lizzie, she clambers onto the bed and settles down between her parents.

What's strange is that she isn't already talking a mile a minute, regaling them with stories about preschool and the dreams that she had last night and Max the lobster's fear of the dark. After absentmindedly greeting her parents, she sits there pensively- eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed- trying to work something out in her head. Lizzie and William share an amused look over her palm tree-like ponytail (someone has apparently been taking styling tips from Aunt Lydia) and wait for her to speak.

"Mama, Daddy? I have a question."

"And what's that, Jellybean?" Lizzie asks.

In that moment, as she weighs her words carefully (or as carefully as a three year old can), Amelia 'Jellybean' Darcy is the spitting image of her dad. "If this is my spot," she begins seriously, gesturing to her seat between Lizzie and William, "then where are we going to put Baby when he comes? He has to sit here, too, but..." She trails off, but her parents are fairly certain where this was going. Amelia is undeniably excited to become a big sister, but she's clever enough to know that it means she'll have to share her parents. Of late, she's been wondering whether she'll have to share other things with her baby brother, too.

William pulls his daughter into his lap and kisses her on the forehead before he explains. "Well, Jellybean, for Baby's first few months, he won't be able to sit up the way that you can. He'll have to be in Mama's lap most of the time."

"Because he's too small and he'll get lost in the covers?"

Lizzie's lips press together as she holds back a laugh, but William keeps a straight face. "Exactly," he says. "But after that, he'll get bigger, and then you can hold him the way we taught you to hold Trevor so you can both be in the same spot. Sound good?"

"Yes!" she half-shouts. Now that Amelia's pressing concern has been taken care of, she's back to her usual, bouncy self. "Can we go make pancakes now? Please?"

"I think that's entirely doable," William says. "Why don't you go put Max over there back in your room and find your stool? Mama and I will be downstairs in a moment."

Amelia seems to find this suggestion amenable, as she quickly kisses both of her parents and zooms away, lobster in hand.

William turns to look at Lizzie. "Well, Mrs. Darcy, it appears that you'll have to leave this bed after all."

"I don't mind," she says. "I'm just happy as long as I'm spending time with...pancakes."

She grins at him as he shakes his head, and together they make their way downstairs to spend some quality time with pancakes.

(And also each other.)

(Mostly each other.)

* * *

_Regina Spektor - Laughing With_

_"No one's laughing at God in a hospital/No one's laughing at God in a war."_

* * *

If Lydia has learned anything about her sisters over the twenty-two years that she's been alive, it's that because Lizzie is an incredibly intelligent person, when she does stupid things, they're of the incredibly stupid variety.

Like, one time, she and Charlotte somehow ended up with a marmoset in the back of their car, and instead of immediately calling animal control, they called Jane and then _refused_ to call animal control because they were scared that the marmoset would get hurt by tranquilizer guns. They lasted about five minutes as animal activists before the monkey spit in Lizzie's hair and they decided it was best to let professionals handle it.

Or like that other time in high school, when Lizzie decided that she was tired of the Bennets just being referred to as 'those redheaded sisters' and tried to go brunette, except she screwed up the hair-dyeing process and ended up with vaguely purplish hair. The hairstyle probably could have been rescued, but then Mom came in and freaked out over Lizzie dyeing her hair in her first place, so Lizzie's stubbornness kicked in and she spent an entire summer with eggplant-colored hair just to spite their mother.

Or like today, when she'd decided that she'd stand on a swivel chair in a pencil skirt to try and replace a faulty light bulb in her office when there were stepladders and desk lamps and _other people who could have done it._ But Lizzie is clever and she is independent and sometimes she thinks she's invincible.

(If there was ever any doubt about it, it just so happens that no, she's not.)

Lydia is super pissed off at Lizzie right now. Well, she's concerned, obviously. But right under her extreme concern is her extreme annoyance, because where does Lizzie get off doing stupid things that endanger her stupid safety when there are people who, for some stupid reason, care about her?

Lydia also thinks that she might not have gotten this mad if she hadn't stopped to notice how Darcy looks. He's wearing jeans right now. Jeans and a t-shirt. And his glasses. _In public._ Not to mention that he looks exhausted and stressed out and just as worried as she feels. She doesn't like this disheveled Darcy; it scares her a little to see him not pulled-together.

Every time Lydia closes her eyes or lets her mind wander, she sees Lizzie the way she was when Lydia walked into the office- unconscious and pale, her arm bent at a funny angle and a trickle of blood near her hairline. She knows now that Lizzie is okay (granted, there's some bruising and a dislocated shoulder and a concussion), but the image still chills her to the bone.

They've been sitting here for hours and hours now. The shoulder was set when she was brought in, but after Lizzie came to, the doctors wanted to do a scan to make sure there was no internal bleeding, and then they wanted to keep her for observation so they could be certain that it was just a mild concussion. Lydia isn't sure how hard it's been for Lizzie, but during that first hour in the waiting room, Lydia was squeezing Darcy's hand so tightly that she's surprised he can still move it.

Lydia gets up and plunks down in the chair next to Darcy. "You can stop worrying now," she says. She's not sure if she's talking to William or herself. "You know Lizzie; she's stubborn enough to move mountains. She'll probably heal overnight from sheer force of will or something."

Darcy nods and graces her with a small smile before he goes back to staring at the floor. Lydia realizes that what they both need is a distraction, so she swallows all the worry and fear and channels her nervous energy into cranking the adorbs up to like, a million.

"Darcinator, you are no help to my sister sitting around like a mopey lump. You can let go of some of that stress now, okay? She's fine. You, on the other hand, look like you've aged about twenty years in the past eight hours."

He arches an eyebrow at Lydia, not entirely sure where she's going with this.

Lydia just takes his confusion as encouragement. "Yeah, you heard me. Twenty years. I decided to be generous and not make it twenty-five," she says. "Now go get a cup of coffee, but leave me your phone."

He speaks up for the first time in hours, completely nonplussed. "What? Why do you need my phone?"

"So I can scroll through your iPod and judge your taste in music, obvs. Now hand it over and go caffeinate yourself."

Lydia is holding out a hand expectantly, but as Darcy looks down at her, he sees the worry that's been all over her face for hours. He decides to humor her, placing the iPhone in her hand before making his way to the vending machine in the corner of the room. When he gets back with the somehow simultaneously too-strong and too-watery coffee, true to her word, Lydia is scrolling through his music library with a skeptical look on her face.

"What kind of a name is Admiral Fallow?" she asks, without preamble. "Also, if this 'Squealing Pigs' song is one of those weird experimental things where they sample animal noises for three minutes, I am judging you _so hard_."

"I assure you, it's not actually three minutes of pig squeals," Darcy says, taking a sip of coffee and wincing. "Admiral Fallow is an orchestral indie folk band."

Lydia shakes her head at him. "I'm trying to be surprised by the fact that you just said that, but I think I'd be more weirded out if you just told me that they were good like a normal person."

Darcy cracks a smile at that, so Lydia presses on with her commentary. "Classical, classical, archived NPR podcasts, classical...oh, Blind Pilot! Hey, I listen to them."

"Really?"

Lydia lets out a snort at Darcy's surprised expression. "What, am I not indie enough to listen to the same music as you? I had this boyfriend in high school who was a really big fan of their first album. We didn't last very long, but I kept the mix CDs he made me. That's how I found out about Bon Iver, too."

Fearing that he's offended Lydia when he was just trying to keep her distracted, Darcy tries to explain himself. "I didn't say that you weren't 'indie' enough, I simply-"

"You just thought that my iPod was all Ke$ha and top 40 hits, right?" Lydia finishes for him. "It's okay; I know I don't have the right look. Some of us just aren't comfortable dressing like super hipsters all the time."

"I am not a 'hipster'," Darcy says with distaste. "I just happen to prefer a more classic aesthetic when it comes to my clothes."

"Right," says Lydia flatly, before continuing to peruse the iPod. She carries on in silence for a moment or two before her eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously, Darce? 'Ho Hey'? Aren't The Lumineers a little mainstream for you?"

"You know, the first time I heard that song was _months_ before it was popular."

She just blinks at him and says, "Tell me again how you're not a hipster?"

But William's attention has been taken by the woman walking towards them with a bandage on her forehead, her arm in a sling, and a dazed look on her face. "Lizzie!"

Lydia's head whips around so fast that her ponytail nearly smacks William in the face. The bubbly facade drops immediately and she jumps out of her chair, advancing on Lizzie with an expression that looks remarkably like their mother's 'Elizabeth-Bennet-you-are-in-so-much-trouble' face.

"You," she begins, cutting off William's inquiry about how Lizzie is feeling. "What is _wrong_ with you? Who do you think you are, Spiderman? How in the hell did it seem like a good idea to-"

She breaks off for a second, glancing at Lizzie's expression and then at the doctor who is looking on amusedly. "Wait, if I yell at her right now, is she going to remember any of it tomorrow?"

"Considering the amount of pain medication in her system, I think that's unlikely," the doctor says with a small smile.

"Right. Darceface, remind me to yell at her tomorrow." When Darcy agrees to do so, Lydia turns to Lizzie again. "You're an idiot and a lot of other things that I will very loudly explain when you can understand me," she says, "but for now, I'm just really glad that you're okay."

Lizzie just smiles and holds out her good arm to gingerly wrap Lydia in a hug before asking if they can go home now.

The drive back is quiet. Lizzie's asleep and Darcy and Lydia are too tired to speak, but at some point Darcy selects "3 Rounds and a Sound" on his car's music system. As she recognizes the song, Lydia realizes that it's his way of thanking her for her antics at the hospital. She smiles and nods at the rearview mirror before falling asleep to the familiar sounds of the song and the car humming beneath them.

* * *

**A/N:** I do hope you enjoyed this! If you feel so inclined, leave me a review to let me know what you thought.


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